


Spider-Man: Into the Noir-Verse

by maramarie



Category: Spider-Man - All Media Types, Spider-Man: Into the Spiderverse - Fandom
Genre: F/M, Spider-Man Noir - Freeform, Spider-Man: Into the Spider-Verse - Freeform, Spider-Man: Into the Spiderverse, spider noir - Freeform
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-04-04
Updated: 2019-04-21
Packaged: 2020-01-04 22:22:00
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 12
Words: 9,549
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18352883
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/maramarie/pseuds/maramarie
Summary: “Oh, I’m sorry. Did I offend you when I said ‘no offense?’”





	1. Spider-Man

**Author's Note:**

> The Daily Bugle journalist Enna Wilson gets familiar with a new crime-fighting vigilante. A Spider-Man AU that’s a mix of the Spider-Man Noir comics and Spider-Man: Into the Spider-Verse. This is Spider-Man Noir x my OC

My back pressed flat against the brick wall, I stood quietly, listening. My hand subconsciously floated over my coat pocket where my recorder was. “What I’m saying is, we have to get this back to Germany in the next week.” I listened carefully, breathing as quietly as possible. “It was difficult enough to get these without the coppers sniffing us out. We’re gonna need more time.” I heard another male speak. I contemplated leaving. This was enough already that was out of my territory. I was a journalist - not a copper.

There was enough silence that I decided I should leave. I press off the wall, starting to walk silently in the other direction when I felt a hand over my mouth, and hands wrapped around my waist.

 

“I don’t want any trouble.” I tried to persuade them as I struggled slightly. My legs and arms were tied and I was strapped to the chair. “Yeah? Then why were you listening to the boss?” One of the members accused me. They were Nazis, it was easy to tell. “Look, I’m just a journalist, I -“ I’m interrupted.

“Shit, Lionel. You brought a journalist back?” A voice behind me said. “She was snooping. Sniffing around.” Lionel said, glaring at me. “Look, why don’t we just kill her and move on?” Another voice sprouted. “You wouldn’t want to do that.” I bluffed. It caught their attention. “Why not?” I could spot someone moving around in the shadows behind them, a finger pressing to their lips to tell me to not mention them. “Well, I’m a very reputable journalist. Ever heard of The Daily Bugle? You wouldn’t want your little Nazi business going under, would you?” I bluffed to them, piquing their interest. “Now what do you know about -“

I winced slightly as the guy’s gun was wrapped by some sort of string, hitting him in the face and going off. “What the -“ I heard behind me before I heard the noise of grunts and punches. “Shit!” One of the guys yelled in front of me. The string shot out and wrapped around the two remaining guys, pulling them down to the floor.

The source of the string walked from beside me, trench coat flowing and hand rested on a gun on his hip. “We’ll talk later.” He spoke to the guys before knocking them out. He turned to me, nodding with the tip of his fedora. “Thank you.” I stated as he reached down and untied me. I rubbed my wrists as I stood up. “You probably want to get out of here.” He told me. I tilted my head at him. “You do know I have to tell the cops about this right?” I ask him.

He nods. “The nearest diner is a ten minute walk. They have a phone. By the time you talk to the cops I’ll have at least twenty minutes.” He figures. I quirk my eyebrows slightly. I nod, spotting the exit sign. I walk out casually, the heels of my shoes clicking on the cement as I pulled my recorder from my pocket, clicking the stop button as a smile formed on my lips.

 

“Everything from your mail box, ma’am.” My assistant says, handing me the large pile of tips. “Thank you, Sam.” A smile tugs at my painted lips as I stand at my desk. I look at the mail, a bright slip sticking out to me on the top. I grab it, raising an eyebrow. _14th_ _street alleyway behind the diner. 11:30am. September 19th._  On the corner lays a messy drawing of a spider. “Sam, what day is it?” I check my watch, seeing its 11:10am. “The 19th.” Sam says from his small desk. I nod. “If the boss comes in tell him I’m taking my lunch break early.” I tuck the paper into my pocket, quickly picking up my jacket and throwing it on. I grab my hat as I walk out the door.

 

I pass the diner as I turn into the alleyway, my heels clicking on the concrete. The floor was damp from the morning rain, which had passed on my way here. My jacket is still slightly damp. My curls are starting to loosen a bit from the humidity as the ends tickle my chin. “Spider-Man, huh?” I hear, turning around as I see the Spider-Man swing down from the top of the building, landing swiftly on his feet. “Do you like it?” I smile softly. “It has a ring to it.” He says smoothly, taking a couple step towards me.

“Are we off the record?” He asks me. I nod softly, my hands in my pockets. “I need your help.” He speaks quietly, glancing around a bit. “What is it?” My eyebrows furrow as I look up at his goggles, the glass shining in the daylight. “The Velvet Murders, heard about them?” He asks. I nod. “I’m working on something with them, but I haven’t been able to find a lot of information.” He explains to me. I nod slowly. “You need case photos?” I ask softly, inferring. He nods, glancing around a bit. “Could you?” He asks. A smile tugs at my lips. “Well, it’s the least I could do.” I say, a slight sarcasm under my voice. I can almost see a smile tug under his mask. “Meet me here, tomorrow night at nine.” He says. I nod and he webs off to the side. He tips his hat at me in a farewell before soaring off.

  

“I didn’t know you dabbled in murders.” I comment to Spider-Man as he flicks through the Manila folder I compiled for him. He shrugs softly. “I do like punching Nazis. A lot. But I do other jobs.” He says. “Jobs? Are you a private eye?” I inquire. He looks up at me in the dim light of the alleyway. “I didn’t know this was an interview.” He sounds a bit cold, suddenly detached. I understood. He had a secret identity. He wanted to keep it. I wanted to break it. I didn’t need to share it - I just wanted to know.

“Is a girl not allowed to ask questions every once and awhile?” I tease slightly, raising an eyebrow. He looks back down at the photos. “You can get home safely from here?” He asks me suddenly. I nod softly. “Thanks again, doll.” He tells me, webbing away. My nose scrunched slightly in frustration. I would figure him out eventually.


	2. Egg Creams and Glasses

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Enna goes on an investigative track to find out who Spider-Man really is and attempts to crack down on a local mafia jazz club.

 “Who do you think he is, Wilson?” I look up from where I sat in the break room, Manila folders spread out in front of me as I chewed on the end of a pen. “Who?” I ask, looking at my coworkers. “Spider-Man.” One stated. “You met him, you must have an idea.” Another one said. I glanced down at the papers and papers of citizen descriptions. “No idea.” 

 

I sit down at the diner on 14th, my notebook out as I scribble away. “Can I get you something ma’am?” I hear. I look up to the waiter, smiling softly. “Uh, yes. Can I have an egg cream?” I ask. He nods. “Oh, and, do you mind if I ask you a question?” I ask with a soft smile, pulling off my jacket. “We don’t entertain coppers here.” He grunts. “Good thing I’m not a copper then. I’m a journalist for The Daily Bugle. I’ve been asked to do an article of frequent costumers in various places. I was just wondering if you could tell me what your most frequent customers are?” I bluff. 

He nods. “Oh, yeah. I’m sorry. Uh...we get families a lot. On the weekends. Sometimes couples. Oh, and, uh, this one guy....gets an egg cream.” I nod, writing it down. “What’s the guy look like? You know, for accuracy.” I smile softly. “Early-20s? Round glasses.” He shrugs. “Thank you.” I smile, writing it down. He walks off and I grin to myself. I might just have a lead on Spider-Man. 

  

“Hi! I’m here to check on a warranty for my husbands glasses.” I smile at the optometrist, who nods. “Do you have a name for him?” I chew my lip slightly. “Johnson?” I question. She hums, flipping through her pages. “I don’t see a Johnson.” She states. I nod. “Maybe it’s under mine? It’s Parker. Round glasses.” I rock on my heels a bit, smiling at her. She nods, looking at through her books. “Oh! There it is! Parker....Peter?” She looks up at me. I nod eagerly. She smiles. “Round glasses....it was a two year warranty.” She tells me. I smile, nodding. “Thank you.” I turn, walking out of the optometrist office. 

  

 

“What brings a pip like you to a place like this?” I hear, looking to the subject of the question. He’s an older man, adjusting the cuffs on his sleeves. “Music. I like jazz.” I smile slightly at him, looking back to the singer on the stage. I was really at a Mafia ran club. Or that’s what I thought. I needed evidence to really break the case. So, I was undercover, per se. I wore a dark dress and pearls around my neck, my hair curled neater than usual. 

The man smiles at me softly. “Jordan, get this kitten something special.” He tells the bartender. I raise an eyebrow, smiling softly. “Oh, I usually don’t drink.” I lie. “It would be rude to accept a drink from the owner of the establishment.” He commented. I was slightly shocked and he could tell. “Oh! I’m sorry, Mister.....” I trailed off. “Kavinsky.” He replied. The glasses were placed on the bar. “I’m Hazel. Hazel Verrano.” I lied. He nodded, motioning to my drink. I took a sip, taken aback slightly by the acidic taste. It definitely wasn’t just alcohol. I still acted normal however, biting my lip. 

I tried to focus on the singer. “I’ve never seen you around here before.” Kavinsky told me. I shrug. “I like to jump from place to place.” I bluff, my heart racing slightly. Maybe he was onto me. He nods. We’re silent as we watch the singer. “Tell me, why would a journalist like yourself come snooping around here?” He asked. I could feel my heart stop slightly as I glanced at him. “I don’t know what you mean.” I bluff, my voice starting to shake. “Do I need to repeat myself, Miss....Wilson?” He asks. I look at him, a calm smile on his face still. I open my mouth but a guy comes up, leaning into his ear and frantically whispering. I catch one phrase.  _He’s here._

Kavinsky seems to go paler as the mic cuts out, the lights flickering. Kavinsky quickly walks away as gunshots ring out, one light getting shot out. I quickly duck under the bar, breathing heavily. How did I always end up here? The gun shots ring out louder as the lights flicker and I can notice someone going through the men like a shadow. I tilt my head until I see a familiar web shoot out. A breath of relief comes from my body. Spider-Man. 

The shooting seems to stop as the chandelier hangs lopsidedly as it swings a bit. I stand up form under the bar, hearing a gun cock. I turn to find the bartender aiming a gun at me. “Hey, look -“ I’m cut off by another voice. “Duck!” I hear. I immediately do, a web flinging over my head as I see the gun thrown off to the side. I hear a click and another gun shot, a body dropping. His boots make their way toward me and I look up to find him holding his hand out. I grab his hand and he helps me up. Spider-Man perks up slightly. “Coppers. We gotta go.” He tells me. 

I nod and he swiftly guided me to the roof of the building. “Do you trust me?” He asks, glancing around. I nod and he wraps an arm around me tightly. “Hold on.” He states. I go to speak but I’m quickly lifted off the ground. My arms flinging up as I wrap them around his neck tightly, pressing my face to his chest as I hold on for my life. I hear sirens now and he continues swinging us before we stop in a alleyway. It’s dark as we land on our feet. My knees go a bit weak, but he holds onto me. I push myself off of him, brushing off my dress. “Could you warn me or something next time?” I tease, placing a hand on my hip. 


	3. Deal

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> An argument ensues the mafia club before Enna and Spider-Man can settle their differences.

“What were you even doing there?” He sounds colder and more serious than usual. My eyebrows furrow. “There was a case I was researching. The owner was a Mafia boss -“ He cuts me off. “Yeah and how long did it take for him to figure you out?” There’s a slight growl to his voice as I pause. I can’t find it in me to reply. “That’s what I thought.” He said softly. He turned away from me. “Look, just stay out of trouble. Dames like you shouldn’t be involved in things like this. It’s too dangerous.” He states.  

“I can handle myself.” I say indignantly. “Like you did when you got kidnapped? Or when you were in the club just now?” He asks, turning around. I’m silent as my hands ball into fists. I can feel my nails digging into my skin. “Just stay out of it.” He states. He starts to walk away. Slight anger sprouts in me. “You can’t -“ he cuts me off, shooting a web. “I will.” He states. My nose scrunches in anger. “Mister Parker!” I exclaim angrily as he gets ready to leave. He freezes in his place. 

I take a step towards him, his back still towards me. “That’s your name isn’t it?” I ask softly. “Peter Parker.” I state solidly, stopping at least a meter from him. He turns around slightly. “How’d you -“ I cut him off this time. “Listen here, Parker.” I say, my nose scrunching more. I take another step forward. “I have sources. I have outlets.” He looks at me now. I place a finger firmly on his chest. “I’m not - not just some damsel in distress. I want to help people.” I state strongly, poking him softly. He looks at me as I drop my hand. 

“I’m sorry.” He says softly. I’m slightly shocked. “What?” I ask. “It’s not that I think you can’t handle yourself.” He sighs, looking away from me. “People die in my line work. People around me die. I just....” He trails off. “Don’t want me to get hurt.” I finish softly. He nods. I chew my lip softly. “Okay.” I say. He looks at me, slightly confused. “Okay?” He asks. I nod. “I’ll make you a deal. You go out and do all the fighting. But I’ll help with the investigation. Names. Locations. Organizations. I’ll do my best to stay out of trouble for the longest I can.” I state. I can almost see a smile forming under his mask. “Is it a deal, Peter Parker?” I ask, stepping back and holding out my hand. His gloved hand grasps mine softly. “Just call me Peter.” 

 

I scribbled in my notebook frantically as I frowned, then frantically crossing out what I just wrote. The days were getting colder, raining more and more everyday. It was October now, admittedly one of my favorite months. My birthday was approaching soon, but here I was, over worked with three projects at once. Not to mention the work I still did with Peter. We met almost every other day in some alley to exchange information. 

I saw someone sit next to me out of the corner of my eye, not bothering to look. It was almost packed in here. “Your usual?” I heard the waiter ask. “Exactly, Leo.” The voice almost made me look up. It sounded a lot like Peter. “Behind the grind?” I heard him ask, clearly pointed at me. I look up, my mouth dropping open slightly. His hair fell into his face slightly, round glasses propped on a minorly crooked nose. A slight grin resided on his lips. “Something blow your wig?” He teased. 

“Murder...” I whispered in shock. A small laugh fell from his lips and I regained my consciousness. “Mister Parker.” I greeted with a small smile. “Miss Wilson.” He imitated me. I let out a small laugh, looking back toward my work as I shook my head. His egg cream was set down in front of him and he pulled it towards him. “What’s all this for?” He asked, tugging my files closer to him. “Work.” I sigh. He glances from the folders to me. “The Velvet Murders....Retail....Court....” he murmured as he flipped through it. “I’m having a slight writers block.” I sigh, then taking a sip of my egg cream. 

He looks up at me to show he’s listening. “My writers at home. I just....nothing seems right. Something is missing.” I tell him. “I could help with....” he looked back down to the files. I shook my head. “No, you have your own work to do.” I tell him. “The least I could do is try and break your block.” He states, looking at me over his glasses. I chew my lip softly. “What Do you have in mind?” I was desperate, really. Anything would help. 

“A hop always seems to do it for me.” He says. I blush softly. “Oh, no, Peter, I couldn’t. I’m...” I trail off. “There’s no way a butter and egg fly like you is a dead hoofer.” He says. I can feel my face blush even more as I try and look away from Peter. “You’d be surprised.” I murmur softly. Peter chuckles softly. “Leo? Could we get these to go?” 


	4. Glenn Miller

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Enna and Peter get closer as they help each other with cases. Who knew dancing and wine could do so much?

We walked into Peter’s apartment, my eyes taking in ever detail as I slowly pulled off my jacket. It was extremely neat and clean, so that I could clearly spot the platters from the door. Peter took my jacket, then my hat, hanging them up carefully. “I didn’t take you for a jitterbug.” I tease, smiling softly as I flipped through his platters. “Is there something wrong with enjoying music?” He asks, approaching my side. His hands are in his pockets as he slouches softly to be closer to my eye level. 

Peter adjusts his glasses. “Oh!” I smile as I pull out the Glenn Miller platter, putting it on. “Glenn Miller is my favorite.” I admitted, my foot starting to tap to the beat. The symphony flows gorgeously from the horn, seemingly filling the air with the warm jazzy tunes. I closer my eyes softly, nodding my head to the beat as well. 

I felt hands softly grabbed mine and I opened my eyes to look at Peter. I became slightly nervous to dance in front of him before I gave in, letting Peter pull me closer to him. I let him lead the way, his glasses slipping down his nose. I laughs as he let go of my one hand, tugging me into a spin. I spun into his arms, almost slipping as the music crescendoed and he caught me in his arms. I laugh as _Moonlight_ _Serenade_ starts, Peter helping me stand up right. 

“I knew you’d be better than you lead on.” He smiled. “Fortunately I only stepped on your foot once so far.” I smiled. Peter laughed softly. “You just need a little practice.” He held out his hand again. I grabbed it, Peter pulling me softly towards him. A hand of his wrapped around my waist, the other grasping my hand still. 

We started swaying to the soft flow of the music, my eyes looking away from Peter. My mind drifted to my articles I had to write. “Oh!” I gasped softly as I realized a good title for one of my articles. I quickly pulled from Peter, grabbing my notebook and pen from my coat pocket. I quickly scribble out the title, murmuring softly to myself. The music turns down and a hear a thwip! as I look at what I wrote down. 

The pad is quickly torn from my hands, Peter grabbing it mid air from his web. “Peter Parker!” I exclaim, my eyebrows furrowing and my nose scrunches. He ignores me as he looks in my notepad. “Velvet Serial Killer Takes a Seat in the Court.” Peter read out softly. I walked up to grab it, but he pulls it away. “John Walker, 27, suspected and apprehended for murder of five women.” Peter reads. I snatch it from his hands. “I think you’re missing who apprehended him.” A small grin spreads on his lips. “Okay, _Spider-Man_ , would you like more publicity?” I poke.  

I can see his grin falter for a second before he rolls his eyes. “That’s what I thought.” I huff, nose in the air slightly. 

 

“It just doesn’t add up.” I sigh, looking at the spread of papers. Peter and I sat tiredly on the floor of his living room, files, papers, photos, and pens littering the space. “There’s something we’re missing.” Peter sighs, rubbing his eyes softly under his glasses. I take another sip of my wine, swirling the red liquid around in the glass. “Or maybe we’re looking at it wrong.” I suggest. 

Peter looked at the photos one more time. “What If...” He reached out, turning one of the photos ninety degrees. I raise my eyebrows. “I don’t...” I trail off, tilting my head as Peter places another one of the photos under it. There’s a word written out between the two photos. “Ponco’s?” Peter asks, his eyebrows furrowing. “It’s a restaurant downtown.” I say tiredly, rubbing my eyes. I could feel I was slightly tipsy. 

I look over to find Peter already looking at me. “You should probably head home. I can walk you.” Peter offers, standing up as he brushes off his clothes. “I’m perfectly capable.” I mumble, standing. Peter tilts my glass up in my hand as I almost spill the rest of my wine. “You’re tipsy.” He states. I roll my eyes, taking another sip. Peter plucks the glass from my hand, placing it on the side table. “Come on.” He says softly, walking past me to his coat hanger. He pulls off my coat and hat, holding them out for me. I carefully put them both on as Peter pulls on his black trench coat. 

“After you.” He holds open the door for me. We make our way down the stairs to the street, my heels clicking loudly in the dead silence of the night. Street lamps flicker precariously as we walk in silence. “You know where you’re going right?’ Peter asks all of a sudden. “No, I do not.” A small smile spreads on my face as Peter stops us. “Do you remember your address?” He leans down towards me slightly, eyebrows raised over the rims of his glasses. “Why yes I do!” I exclaimed, going to walk past him but walking straight into him. 

“Is that my wallet?” I ask as I try to reach up to his hands. He hums, pulling out my license as he reads my address. He slips my wallet back into my pocket before guiding me in the right direction. Peter guides me into my apartment complex and to the elevator. As he pressed the button my eyes droop as I sway a bit. I let my head fall onto Peter, too intoxicated to care. 

The elevator dings and I stumble forwards, Peter guiding me by a hand on the small of my back. We made it to my door and I started to dig in my pockets before pulling out my keys. I drunkenly tried to put the key into the door, hearing a small chuckle from Peter. “Oh, shut up.” I murmured, my nose scrunching as I focused harder. Peter places his hand on mine to guide it, my brain going unbelievably fuzzy as he does so. The key slides in and I turn it, stumbling into my apartment. 

“Are you okay?” Peter asks as I fall onto the couch. I nod, closing my eyes. I can hear him walking about and water running as I fade in and out of sleep. The door shuts before I fall asleep fully.  

 

I groan, pulling my hand up to my head as sun shines in my eyes. I curse under my breath. I was hung over. I swing my legs off of the couch, my eyes immediately landing on the coffee table. My eyes drifted from the glass of water to the note. 

 

_Thought you’d need this. - Peter_

 

A small smile spread out on my face before my dry tongue reminded me of my pounding headache. I grabbed the glass of water, chugging it down. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Glenn Miller’s Moonlight Seranade did come out in 1939, but it’s 1933 here. However, it’s responsible to argue that Noir’s universe is a bit different.


	5. Sacked

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Enna struggles with The Daily Bugle, but Peter is there to help her.

“I need you to find out who the Spider-Man is.” My boss relayed to me, smoking a cigar by the open window. Cool air breezed in, tossling the loose papers on his desk. I could feel my heartbeat speed up but cleared my throat. “I can’t do that.” I said simply, his eyebrows raising. “You can’t do that?” He questioned simply, cigar hanging from his lips. “Even if I could manage to find out who he is....I couldn’t expose him in the papers. He works in dangerous lines of field. It would be like posting his address in a Mafia club.” I explained. 

He narrowed his eyes slightly. “Then I suggest you pack your things, Miss Wilson.” He stated. My eyes widened. “What?” The word fell softly from my lips. “You’re fired. Sacked. Axed. Canned.” He told me. “Because I won’t put a man to his death?” I asked, my nose scrunching in anger. “Because you won’t give me what I asked for.” He stated. “What you asked for is, with all due respect, all wet! Spider-Man has done more for this city than this paper has and I’ll gladly leave knowing that I don’t have to work with balled up people like you!” I exclaimed, my face heated as I turned on my heel.

 

I sat at my typewriter, staring furiously at the pages. I had to write on my own now. Not a lot of businesses would take me, despite how reputable I was. So now I was putting together my own paper, a crime paper. There was a knock on the door and I stayed silent, focusing on the paper. There was another knock. I pushed my hair behind my ears. “I know you’re in there, doll.” I heard the voice muffled through the door. 

“I can’t talk right now, Peter.” I called slightly, frustratedly looking back to my paper. I tapped my foot on the floor, feeling guilty as I stood up, opening the door. Peter stood in his usually clothes, looking down at me through his glasses. “Come in.” I stepped back for him and he walked into my apartment, pulling off his hat and coat. “You’ve been busy?” He questioned, looking at the piles of papers spread across my table. 

“I was fired.” I stated briefly, sitting back down in my chair. “Fired? For what?” Peter took steps so that he stood behind my chair. I read the last sentence again. “My boss wanted me to figure out who Spider-Man is, and you know what I told him?” I ask Peter, clenching my hands into fists on the table. There was a pause and I knew Peter had heard me. “I told him that exposing Spider-Man would be a death sentence.” I state, sighing. “Oh God, I’m so stupid.” I murmured, running my hands over my face before I stood up to get a glass of water. 

Peter’s cold hand grasped my wrists, concerned eyes looking into mine. “He fired you because of me?” Peter asks. I shake my head. “No, Peter. It was my decision....he was certifiable anyways.” I shake my head. “Thank you.” He said softly. I waved my hand dismissively. “There’s no way anyone should be able to find you out anyways. Not without me. I just need to write some more that’s all. I was going to start my own paper maybe....” I trailed off. There was silence between us as I headed back to my table, glancing over all of the work. 

“Interview me.” I heard. “What?” I whipped around to face Peter. “Think about it, sweetheart. You’re probably the only one in this whole city who knows anything about me. The rest anyone knows is what you’ve told them. It would sell, you know it would.” Peter explained. “I can’t use you like that.” I shake my head. “It’s not using me if it’s my idea.” Peter states. I look at the man standing in my apartment, his hands softly tucked into his pockets. “Okay.” 


	6. Meat Wagon

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Peter stumbled into Enna’s apartment late at night.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning: Descriptions of blood, needles, and guns.

It was nearly one am, I was up writing again when there was heavy knock on the front door. My eyebrows furrow as I carefully stood up. “It’s me, doll.” I heard Peter since our through the door. I became instantly concerned by the stress in his voice, opening the door as Peter stumbled forward into me, in full gear. I caught him the best I could as he breathed heavily through his mask. I quickly shut and locked my door. He clutched his arm tightly as my eyes widened, noticing his black attire was soaked in a dark liquid. 

“Shit, Peter.” I cursed out, quickly guiding him to my couch. He fell down, breathing heavily as he chuckled. “Never thought I’d hear you say that.” He said. I quickly pull off his mask to allow him to breathe better, his black hair tousled and sweat gathering on his forehead. “Did someone shoot you?” I ask as I help him sit up, pushing his trench coat carefully but hastily off of him. “Someone’s always shooting at me, sweetheart.” He said softly, watching me carefully as I inspected his arm.  

“And you didn’t think a meat wagon would be a better choice?” I question. “In my getup?” He asks back. I sigh, grabbing the hem of his sweater. “Help me, will ya?” I ask. He nods as we carefully pull off his sweater. Peter groans as it passes over his arm. I briefly glanced at his bare chest before focusing on his arm. “Lay down, but I need you to stay awake. Can you do that?” Peter nods, carefully falling back onto my couch. I stand up, rushing to my bathroom as I find my medical kit and some tweezers. 

“Do you know how to do this?” Peter questions me. I look up to see a certain fear in his eyes, provoking me to lie for his sake. “Easily.” I tell him, grabbing a bottle of alcohol from the cabinet. Without warning I pour the alcohol over the wound, Peter groaning and his muscles tensing as I wipe it off carefully with a small hand towel. “Look at me, Parker.” I say seriously. His blurry eyes focus on mine and I softly furrow my eyebrows. “I’m gonna have to pull out the bullet and then sew you up.” I state. He nods. I grab his other hand, placing it on my shoulder nearest to him. “You squeeze my shoulder if you have to, Okay?” I ask him.  

He nods, exhaling softly and looking up at the ceiling. I quickly pour the alcohol over my tweezers, before placing one of my hands by the wounds. I can hear Peter’s breath hitch as I bite my lip. I could see the bullet on the surface. I quickly reach in, grabbing it with the tweezers as Peter grips my shoulder tightly. I gently pull it out, Peter exhaling as I do. I hold up the bullet for him. “You’re an idiot, you know that, Peter Parker.” I tell him. He softly chuckles as I open the kit, placing the tweezers and the billet in the lid. I grab the needle and the thread, preparing it with some alcohol as well. 

“Just this and we’re done.” I tell him. I can practically feel the heat radiating off of him as he nods. His grip on my shoulder is soft as I prepare myself. I start stitching him up, being as neat as I could as I tie it tightly. Peter grips my shoulder slightly as I grab the towel and press it to the wound. Peter sighs, letting go of my shoulder as his eyelids started to flutter. “You can sleep. I’ll be right here.” I speak softly, pushing his hair back from his face with my free hand. Peter’s eyes follow me before his eyelids flutter shut, his body relaxing. 

When the bleeding slows down, I wrap his arm in gauze instead of holding the towel. His skin is still feverish so I get another towel, wet it with cool water as I place it on Peter’s forehead. I grab the blanket it from the back of the couch, softly draping it over him. I quietly clean up before I sit down back down on the floor where I had worked on his arm, leaning on the couch as I fell asleep. 

 

I wake up before Peter, checking his temperature before grabbing his sweater and his jacket to wash them. After washing them, I hang them up, making my way to my room to search for a shirt for Peter. I found one of my baggiest gray shirts, hoping it would fit him as I walked back to the living room. He was breathing softly in his sleep. I found my way to the kitchen, busying myself with food. 

Peter wakes up as I’m sitting on my coffee table close to him, eating my bowl of oatmeal as I read over my latest paper. I hear him shift when I look over, smiling softly. “You’re up. How are you feeling?” I ask. “I’ve been worse.” Peter groans as he sits up. I hand him my shirt and he pulls it on, it thankfully fitting him well. “I washed your sweater and your jacket. Also I made you oatmeal.”

I hold out the bowl and he takes it from me. “Thank you, doll.” He says softly. I watch him softly as he eats, tilting my head slightly. “So who was it?” I ask. He shakes his head. “Some Nazi folk.” He murmurs, squinting at me. “Oh! Your glasses.” I scramble to my feet as Peter reassures me it’s fine. I ignore him, finding my way to the laundry room where I pulled out everything from his pockets. I grab his glasses, heading back into the living room. I open the glasses, sliding them onto his slightly crooked nose for him.

He looks at me with a soft smile as I sit back down across from him. “Other than the obvious pain are you feeling alright?” I ask him softly. He nods slightly, resting his best in between his legs. I take note of the pistol holstered on his thigh. “Feels kinda like a hangover.” He shrugs. I laugh softly. I lean forward slightly. “You know, Parker, you are allowed to feel things.” I tease. He nods, looking down at his bowl. I grab mine, heading to the sink. “Yeah, but in my line of work it’s easier not to.” He explains. “In my line of work it’s easier to settle for a lot of things, but sometimes you wanna fight for the better things.” I say as I wash out my dish, heading back to Peter as I wipe my hands on my dress. 

“How do you know something’s worth fighting for?” He asks. I shrug, sitting down. “It’s a feeling.” I say softly. 


	7. Busted Lips

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A short encounter between Peter and Enna.

I yelp slightly as I turn the corner to find Peter hanging out upside down. It was dark and rainy out and I was trying to make my way home from the diner. “What are you up to?” I ask him, a smile smile on my face as water dropped off of my hat. “The usual.” He said casually. I laughed softly. “Are you bleeding again?” I take a step closer, inches from his face as I inspect the dark spot on his mask. “It’s likely.” He sighs. I glanced around, barely able to see around us. “You don’t mind if I look?” I ask. “No.” 

I gently reach up to the brim of his mask, my nails lightly grazing at the skin on his throat as I pulled down his mask. I frowned at his split lip, running my thumb over top of it. “Always getting beat up somehow, aren’t you?” I ask. Peter hums as I inspect his lips. Though split, this is the first time I’ve seen them up close. There was a certain intimacy to it, one I decided to act on.  

I bridged the gap between our lips, my hands on either side of his face. We kissed slowly, but feverishly, as if this would be our first and last kiss. His lips tasted of blood and mint on my tongue. I pulled away with a slight blush to my face. “It’s busted alright.” I whispered, my hands still on my either side of his face. “Are you sure?” He gave me an upside down smirk. “I might have to check again later.” I flirted before pulling up his mask to cover the rest of his face. “Abyssinia, Spider-Man.” 


	8. Part of the Gig

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Peter swings back Enna’s apartment on a stormy night.

_Knock! Knock!_ I glance up from my couch in the living room, tugging the edges of my silk robe around my body more. I tilt my head as I hear the noise again, standing up on my feet. It was coming from the window. I place down my book, walking to the window. I can see the familiar flint of goggles outside, unlocking and pushing open my window. Peter gracefully swings in, landing on his feet slightly as he lets go of the web. “Why are you out there during a storm like this?” I ask, turning as I close and lock the window again. 

“Working on a case.” I turn, my robe slipping off of my shoulder a bit. Although he had his mask on, I could tell Peter was examining me in my too short slip to be decent in front of a man. “Oh! I’ll put some clothes on.” I state, pulling my robe a bit tighter around me. My face heats slightly. “No! I mean, I’m the one intruding so...I should probably....go.” Peter stumbled on his words slightly. “I’m not letting you swing back out there in this weather.” I fold my arms across my chest, Peter tilting his head at me. 

“It’s not that bad -“ As soon as Peter speaks, there’s a collectively hum in the building as the lights all shut off. I curse under my breath. “Power outage.” I sigh. “I’ll find some candles. I think I have some in my bathroom.” I say, reaching out my hands. I start walking, my hands finding themselves on a warm body. “That’s me, doll.” Peter teases. I pull my hands away, thankful he can’t see me blush in the dark. “Well, I cant really see, Pete.” I say, a bit snarkily. I feel his gloved hands wrap around my wrists. “Well I can, fairly well.” He says confidently. 

“Mind leading me to the bathroom?” I ask. He starts tugging my wrists in the direction of my bathroom. In a couple of minutes, were sitting on the floor of my living room as I light my couple of candles. They cast a warm glow over the two of us, Peter reaching up and pulling off his mask. His hair falls on his face in an unruly manner but he pays no mind, pulling his glasses onto his face. I sigh, leaning against my couch as I look at Peter.

“How do you shoot those webs of yours?” I ask. “It’s, well....” He chuckles, trailing off. I look at him, raising my eyebrows. “Did I ever tell you how I became like this?” He asks. I shake my head. He sighs. “A year or two ago I was bit by this spider. After I could stick to things and...” He held out his wrist towards me. I glanced at him before tugging down his glove and pushing up his sleeve. There was a slight gland in his skin. “Oh.” The word falls from my mouth as I softly massage his wrist without realizing. 

I hear lightning strike outside as I drop his arm, wrapping my arms around myself. “Is your latest case PI or Spider?” I ask, looking towards him from under my lashes. He sighs. “A little bit of both.” I look to him, resting my head on the couch a bit. “You better watch yourself Parker or you’ll burn out without realizing it.” I murmur, reaching up to push his black hair from his face. “Yeah.” He says softly. “That’s the problem with you.” I state, dropping my hand as I look away from him. His silence prompts me to speak more. 

“You feel like you’ve got to save everyone. I mean, we’ve been in this....depression for four years now. I couldn’t go to college because my family couldn’t afford it. I’m twenty-one and somehow I’m managing this tiny apartment.” I sigh, running my hands over my face and into my hair. “I was gonna go to college. And then all of this happened. And I got bit...” he chuckles bitterly. 

“Would you change it? You know, if you could?” I ask him softly, not daring to look at him. I can feel his eyes trained intensely on me. “Sometimes I think I would.....but it’s moments like these that make me think it’s not all so bad.” He speaks softly. I look over at him, knowing I probably look like a mess so late at night, in my sip on the floor. 

There’s a moment that I look at him, the tiny white scars on his face standing out. His nose bumps into mine as I feel his warm lips on mine, my eyes falling shut. His lips taste of chocolate and mint as I feel his gloved hand cup the side of my face. I hear the hum of electricity, pulling away to the soft lights in my apartment up and running. 

I bit my lip when we pull away, blushing as I look away. The rain still pounds loudly outside as I blow the candles out. I look over at Peter, who was already looking at me. “How’s your arm doing?” I ask, trying to move on from the obvious. I didn’t know how to tell him that I liked him. I mean, he could probably tell, couldn’t he? “Not bad. Practically healed.” I roll my eyes. “Pete, there’s no way it could be healed by now.” I tell him. He tugs at the bottom of his sleeve, pulling it all the way up to reveal the white slightly jagged line. “Murder....” I whisper, my hands finding their way to his arm. I lightly trace over the scar. “How....” I trail off, amazed by how it’s already scarred over. I also take the time to feel Peter’s muscles flex under my fingers.

“Part of the gig, I suppose.” He says. A slightly scoff falls from my lips as I inspect it still. “Well, I didn’t do too bad.” I joke, pulling my hands from him. He tugs his sleeve down as he chuckles. “Well if I ever get stuck again, promise you’ll patch me up?” He asks, teasingly. “I’d prefer you go to a meat wagon, but you know I would. But that doesn’t mean I condone you getting hurt in the first place.” I glare softly at him. He laughs, an angelic song that’s rare as it dances in my ears. 


	9. Just You

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Peter Parker just can’t stop getting hurt.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning: Descriptions of blood

It’s snowing as I walk to my apartment, unlocking the door and pushing into the freezing flat. I shut my door to find Peter, well, Spider-Man, passed out on my couch. I drop my keys on my floor as I hastily run over to him. “Peter? Pete?” I ask as I stop by him, quickly reaching to the rim of his mask. I pull it off quickly, faced with a bruised Peter. I lean my ear down to his mouth to hear him shamble a breath out. He suddenly gasps and I jump back, looking at him. “Peter!” I exclaim once more, scrambling to his side. 

“Hey, doll....” He coughs slightly, his hand gripping onto his stomach where blood is soaking his sweater. “Peter, I need to get you to a hospital.” Tears are lining my eyes as I reach down to his stomach, pulling his bloody hand from it. I grab the nearest blanket as I press it to his wound. Peter grimaces as he shakes his head. “No....you can’t....they’d.....notice.” He breathes out heavily, having difficulty speaking. 

“I’m not letting you die.” I tell him. “I’m not going to the hospital.” He breathes out stubbornly. I can feel a tear slip down my face as I look at him, bleeding again on my cough. “Shit.” I whisper. “Hey.” I hear, Peter playing a hand on my cheek to wipe off my tear. I look at him. “You just....do what you do. I’ll hold on.” He tells me solidly. I nod softly. “Yeah....Yeah...Okay.” I prepare myself, quickly pulling off my jacket, scarf and gloves. 

“I should probably tell you there’s a cut on my back as well.” He coughs out. “You’re such a...such an idiot, Parker.” I say madly, looking at him. He nods and hums softly as he looks up to the ceiling. “You’re gonna have to help me get everything off.” I tell him. He nods, grabbing onto my shoulders as I pull him up. I push off him jacket, shoving a blanket where he’ll be laying to minimize the blood on my couch. I look over to find Peter falling back onto my couch, shirt off. It exposes the cut on his stomach and I reach under my couch, finding the first aid kit and booze. 

I had kept them under there since the last time Peter stumbled in here bleeding. I get to work on his stomach, hoping that he stays alive. 

 

It’s the next day, as I sit down on a chair across from Peter. He had passed out since I had finished, and was clearly breathing still. He just hadn’t woke up. It was getting late at night, my hair wet from a shower I had taken. I paced in front of the couch in my slip, thinking to myself. Why am I so stupid? I should’ve just ignored him and took him to the hospital. We probably wouldn’t have been able to pay the bills but he’d be alive and better than he was now. My stomach aches nervously. I didn’t just _like_ Peter. But God, He was such a stupid, stubborn, insufferable -

“Worried about something, doll?” I heard the dry voice ask. I spin on my heel, lunging to hug him tightly. He groans into my hair. “Watch the stomach.” He winces. “Shit, sorry.” I curse, pulling away as I barely sit on the couch by him. “I thought...” I trail off, shaking my head. “How do you feel? I can make you hot cocoa or coffee. Or if you need another one of my other blankets...You shouldn’t be disrupting the stitches really -“ He grabs my hands as I look around, distracted. My eyes snap to his. 

“Just you. I just need you.” He says solidly. My eyes widen softly but then I nod, grabbing his hands as well. “You’re cold.” I state. “So are you.” He speaks softly, reaching up to push my wet hair behind my ear. The water drips softly onto his chest as his hand slowly slids up my arm and down to my waist. My breath hitches as he scoots over softly, wincing. He doesn’t have to say anything for me to know to lay down, my head resting on his chest. Our bodies heat up together fast as my hand rests softly on his chest, his arm tight around my waist. 


	10. The Vulture

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Peter has a small run-in with some trouble makers, resulting in a small talk with Enna.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter was actually based off of the the bit in Spider-Man:Into the Spider-Verse when Noir is introducing himself and it shows him shooting his gun in the diner. Sorry that it’s kinda short and choppy.

 

With the swish of a long coat, there he was sitting next to me. “Spider-Man.” I greeted. We sat next to each other in the diner as I looked to him. “Bit overdressed, aren’t ya?” I ask Peter, trying to hint at his clothes. He waves a hand at me as he seemed to continue to think. I glance around, catching eyes with a few children. “People are looking.” I notify him. “They always are, doll.” He tells me smoothly. I scrunch my noise in annoyance as Peter seems to sudden perk up. He grabs me by the waist, holding me close to my body as he stands clear of the bar, where several bullets landed. 

He slips his revolver from his thigh, raising it as he quickly shoots the three culprits in front of us. I look away, into Peter’s chest, my shoulders tense as I can feel him put his gun in the holster. There’s frantic talking as I look up to find parents quickly carrying their children out. I look at the three bodies, convulsing on the floor. I can hear sirens as I look to Peter. “Care to explain?” I ask him softly. 

“It’s a long story.” I can hear his sheepish tone through his mask. I raise an eyebrow softly. “Oh, really? Do tell.” His eyesight shifts from me as he looks through the front windows. One police car shambles to a stop, Peter looking down at me. “We gotta go.” He tells me. I go to protest, but Peter easily pushes me out the back door. I turn to see him adjusting his hat slightly as he holds out his hand. I look at him for a second, before grabbing it.  

In no time, we were a few streets away on a rooftop, Peter crouched near the ledge as I leaned against the door to the stairs. “You know Norman Osborne?” He turns towards me, standing up. His goggles shine brightly in the sunlight as I nod. “I tried writing pieces on him before. Apparently it isn’t the best idea to reveal a crime syndicate in a newspaper with my name on it.” 

Peter chuckles softly, his hands resting in his pockets. “He generally isn’t too fond of me because of my efforts to stop his whole rig, but...” Peter trails off. “Let me guess, you bothered him more?” I ask. He nods. “And now he’s starting to recruit more people. Not just him, but the Vulture now too.” A small chill travels down my spine at the mention of the Vulture. I had heard rumors of him around. “We just...have to be careful, then. I mean, you do.” I state. Peter nods softly. 


	11. MIA

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Enna finds herself alone as she attempts to find Peter.

 

“Peter, I’ve got the hot cocoa.” I call as I stand in front of his door. I frown as he doesn’t open it, trying to look in the peep-hole. I hold the carton with one hand as I knock on the door softly. “Pete? Open the door.” I call again, waiting. I frown as I press my ear to the door. Nothing. 

I glance around the hall, reaching up to my hair as I pulled out two of my pins. I stuck one straight in, using the other to carefully pick the lock. There’s a satisfying click as I turn the doorknob, pushing the door open. “Pete?” I call, closing the door behind me. I place the carton with the hot cocoas on the counter, pulling off my jacket. I look around the living room, frowning at the disarray of the furniture. Things are toppled over, in an unusual manner. My heart starts to race as I walk to his bedroom, then the bathroom, both empty. 

  

“I’d like to report a missing persons, please.” I tell the cop at the front desk. He looks up at me, uninterested. “Are they over 18?” He asks, bored. I nod. “Yes, but -“ He’s quick to interject. “Have they been missing for more than 24 hours?” He asks. “No, but -“ He shrugged. “Then there’s nothing we can do ma’am. Next!” He called. I sighed, stepping out of the way as the woman behind me goes up to the desk. 

 

I pace in Peter’s apartment, running my hands through my hair. He couldn’t possibly be dead....could he? No. He would’ve told me if he was going somewhere, right? Maybe it was one of the mafia or another person who has it out for him. Maybe they kidnapped him. He had mentioned Norman Osborne about a week ago. That would be viable cause for the police to search for him. But that could raise suspicion as Peter as Spider-Man. I collapsed onto the couch as I thought. “Where the hell are you, Peter?” I murmur. 

  

It had been nearly five days. I sat in my apartment, trying to write an article. My mind drifted to Peter, worry eating me away inside. My phone rang and I stood up quickly, picking it up. “Hello?” I ask. “Miss Wilson.” I heard. “Do I know you?” I ask, my heart thumping in my chest. “No, not yet. I work at The Daily Bugle. I understand you worked here under the previous boss?” My eyes widened slightly. “I - yes.” I breathed softly. “Great. I would like to talk to you about working here again. In two days. Two pm.” He said. I nod, although he can’t see me. “Sounds great.” I smile softly. “Great. I look forward to working with you.” He hangs up and I put the phone back, biting my lip.

 


	12. Purple

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Peter shows up at Enna’s doorstep with an explanation for where he’s been.

 

Six days. I sat in my apartment, looking over photos I had developed of Peter’s apartment before I put everything back in its rightful place. The crime in the past six days had skyrocketed. Robberies and the mafia were hurting the city the most. It felt weird just being in Peter’s place without him there, so here I was. Looking at photos. There was a light knock on the door. I looked up at the clock. It was nearly midnight. I stood up, walking softly to the door. I peaked through the peephole, gasping. 

I yanked open my door, pulling Peter into a tight hug. “Peter Benjamin Parker!” I say angrily, pulling away. “It’s been six days, Pete! Where have you been? I was so worried,” Peter pulls off his mask when I step slightly away from him, “You just... _disappeared_. Do you have any _idea_ how scared I was? God, you -“ My eyes widened as his lips pressed against mine. I melted into him, his weight making us step back into my apartment, Peter webbing the door shut behind us. My hands scraped from his jaw to his hair, tugging at his long black locks. He held me tightly, kissing me passionately as he did so. 

He finally pulled away when the two of us needed air. I looked at him questionably. “You were gone, Pete.” I said softly, feeling my eyes sting slightly. “I know, doll. I’m sorry, I....” He trailed off. He pulled away from me slightly, guiding me to my couch. I sat down with him, watching him as he fiddled with the gloves on his hands. “This is gonna sound crazy...” He looked up at me. “I’m listening, Peter.” I grabbed his hand softly, biting my slightly swollen lips. 

He takes a deep breath, looking at me. “I...was sucked into a time vortex and travelled to an alternate universe.” He stated. I raised my eyebrows softly, prompting him to continue. “There were other people there....people like me. Spider-people. Other Peter Parker’s.” He explains to me. “It was....their worlds are so full of...color.” He tells me, a slight excitement in his eye. I furrow my eyebrows softly. “Color?” I ask him. He lets go of my hand to reach into his pocket, brandishing a multi-colored cube. “They call it a Rubik’s Cube. And you...you’re supposed to match up all the colors.” He tells me with a small grin on his face. 

“Colors.” I say softly. He nods, looking at me. His eyes scan over me softly. “I bet your eyes would be purple.” He tells me. “Purple?” I ask. He nods, pointing to a darker color on the cube. “At least that’s what I think it’s called.” He says, his eyebrows furrowing a bit. I giggle at his confused expression and he looks up at me. “What?” He looks genuinely confused, but I shake my head. “I just....” I trailed off, reaching up to his face. “I missed you.” I speak softly. His eyes look into mine. 

“I missed you too, doll.” He says smoothly, his lips pressing to mine softly and shortly this time. He pulls away with hesitance, our noses touching softly. I bit my lip, blushing as he closed his eyes and presses his forehead against mine. I close mine as well, taking in the moment. 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> the gag is Rubik’s cubes don’t have purple on them,,,,this will come up later ;)


End file.
